Page 36 of To Hell

“He was a teenager, too?” He seems more interested in Virgilio than my entire story put together.

I nod. “Yes, a very brave one at that, one who never backed down in the face of danger,” A small smile breaks out on my face as I remember my stubborn Virgilio. He was so sure we could escape the cruelty of our realities.

He was so sure, so life had to teach him the hard way.

I breathe deeply again, then hold my breath to tamp my anxiety, which is making my breakfast taste like tree bark.

If Virgilio were alive, what would he look like?

I narrow my eyes at Cesare, seeing a striking resemblance. He would have looked almost like him. Almost, if not. The same eyes. The same hair. The same lean athletic features. But I have seen Cesare smile, and he looks nothing like Virgilio when he does. So, almost it is.

“Virgilio,” there is that flicker of interest in Cesare’s eyes, and this time, it’s fanning into a full flame. “What can you tell me about him?”

I snap, “We won’t make it to the fabric store.” His face drops so I force a smile. “You remind me of him. A lot.”

“I do?” He says, his voice tinged with emotion. His eyes go wide open, and then he shrinks them, leaning back in his seat. He nods, sucks in a deep long breath, and then stands abruptly, “Time’s up, we’ve got to run.”

“Wait, what?” I spurt with a mouthful of cake, “I haven’t even had breakfast,” I squint at him, and he chuckles.

“You should see your face,” he snorts. “I will be in the car… I need a minute.” He doesn’t hover, and with his hands in the pockets of his coffee-brown pants, he stomps out.

I eat my breakfast slowly, nostalgia weaving around as I think of going to the store and then something else—the rush of having someone hurry me about breakfast. The last time I was in a hurry was with Virgilio before leaving for the airport.

I stuff more cake in my mouth and catch a glimpse of Cesare as he slips out of the door, his cream short-sleeved shirt matching mine. He is very fashionable and carries himself with ease. He reminds me a lot of Virgilio, and for a minute, I think, what if?

But no.

Something is missing.

Chapter Twenty

ZOE

It is not that I had not been out of the nightclub before, but it has always been with a blindfold. I could only feel the world around me.

“Are you going to eat that?” Cesare motions at the sausage wrap in my hand. “We are almost there.”

I pout. I was still a little hungry and I didn’t want to keep him waiting, so I grabbed it. But the moment I entered the car, I just couldn’t stomach it.

“You want to show your celebrity crush what you had for breakfast?” Cesare teases. “People smile when people tease them, Zoe,” he says, shaking his head pitifully at me.

It’s been so long since anyone tried teasing me or making jokes around me. It’s not that I don’t know how to react, it’s just that Cesare surprises me. He is so effortlessly light. So different from his brother.

Their fashion senses are also very contrasting. While one likes to dress like the sun setting on the beach, the other likes to dress like a night void of stars.

“I feel nervous. It’s a…”

“I can eat it,” he shrugs, “You talked about Virgilio, and I didn’t have the appetite for food anymore,” he snaps his fingers at the sausage, “If you don’t mind.”

Instead of handing him the entire thing, I break it in two and hand him one part—the smaller part—and he chuckles.

“Shame on you, selfish lady,” he takes it and sighs heavily. I’m sorry about what you’ve been through.” His eyes shimmer with concern. “I know this is not much compared to everything you have endured, but it’s a start to something different, at least.” He smiles warmly.

“Thank you,” I mutter, his compassion making me feel uneasy.

He nods as if he understands what I am doing and then throws his gaze elsewhere. Then he leans on his side of the car and stares out the window.

We are both in the backseat of the car, with a scrawny driver in front and a bodyguard in the passenger seat. I do the same thing, leaning on my side of the car and staring out the window.

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